


Head Canon 5: Q is Jewish.  James Finds out by Accident

by AtoTheBean



Series: Ato's Head Canons [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Headcanon, M/M, Pre-Slash, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: I went to the most beautiful Bar Mitzvah last weekend, and I got inspired.  Thanks to Midrashic for the beta and tradition help.Scavenger Hunt Fill: Item 7Fluff Table Fill: Candle





	Head Canon 5: Q is Jewish.  James Finds out by Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I went to the most beautiful Bar Mitzvah last weekend, and I got inspired. Thanks to Midrashic for the beta and tradition help.
> 
> Scavenger Hunt Fill: Item 7  
> Fluff Table Fill: Candle

It’s past midnight when Bond creeps through the tunnels of Q Branch, dirty, exhausted, and wanting nothing more than to have a scotch, a shower, and a bed. But he’s been incommunicado for days and thinks it’s best to hand over the data before he disappears long enough for his bruises to heal. He re-entered Britain like a pirate on a small craft, avoiding formal entry points, so he doubts anyone is expecting him. Still, there’s generally _someone_ in Q Branch after hours. He quietly lets himself through security and makes his way to the Quartermaster’s office.

There’s light coming from the main Minion bullpen area, but he bypasses that in the shadows, making his way to the back where an old stairwell leads to the back entrance of Q’s lair.

It’s quiet down here, and he silences his own footfalls instinctively. And that’s when he hears it, coming from Q’s office. Some sort of chanting, low — just above a whisper, really — and definitely not in English.

He approaches the room cautiously, alert. The door is ajar and opens silently as he slowly pushes it to reveal… Q, in a yarmulke, holding a blue leather book and chanting quietly before a lit candle, wooden box, and assorted items on a small shelf. As he watches, Q nods and raises the edge of his prayer shawl to his forehead. As the last note of the chant hangs in the air, Q stares at the items on the shelf. James suddenly feels guilty for spying on him and makes the smallest of noises.

Q spins around shouting, “Bloody hell!” and placing a hand over his heart. His eyes widen and he adds, “Well, that was quick. Bond? MI6 thinks you’re dead. The Smart Blood—”

“They tried to electrocute me. Didn’t manage more than a brief shock, but I wondered if it interfered with your nanobots,” James explains, still having difficulties reconciling what he knows of Q with the man he just walked in on, praying at a makeshift… altar? Shrine? “Be glad I don’t have a pacemaker. Mr. Botelli was not as fortunate when I turned the tables on him. Unfortunately, neither was my phone.”

“Oh, I imagine not.” Q looks awkward, relieved but uncomfortable. Caught out.

“I’ve brought the data,” Bond says, holding out a small external drive. “It was much easier to retrieve when everyone was knocked out from the electricity, though unfortunately, I suspect most of them will recover and be aware of the theft by now.”

“That’s fine… ta.” He takes the drive. “I’m pleased that it, and… uh, _you_ … made it out unscathed.”

Bond puts his hands in his pockets, watching Q inspect the drive. The juxtaposition of him doing such a Quartermasterly thing while wearing a prayer shawl is a bit jarring. “I didn’t realize you’re Jewish,” he says.

“It’s not something I advertise,” Q replies quietly, removing his yarmulke. “I’m private about many aspects of my personal life, but this especially.”

“Any particular reason?” James asks. “Surely you don’t think you’d be discriminated against within MI6. We’re generally an inclusive lot.”

“No, I just…” He sighs and looks at Bond, as if deciding what to divulge. “My relationship with my faith is complicated. I don’t practice regularly — I stopped altogether after my parents’ death. But I can find it… comforting, I suppose, to return to these traditions. Especially when more practical actions are no longer left to me. Though I tend to blend them with other things I’ve picked up here and there as part of my yoga practice. This,” he waves at the collection on the shelf, “is definitely not orthodox.”

It’s then that James recognizes an item on the shelf. A little snow globe. Just a trinket James had brought back to Q as a joke, as a fake attempt to appease Q when James had lost every last scrap of equipment. In fact, most of the things on the shelf or inside the wooden box seemed to be of a similar vein: a kitsch pencil sharpener James had brought back from Holland, a wooden owl from Greece, a sake glass he’d stolen from a hotel in Tokyo, the fob of a car he’d crashed during a chase… _wires_ that looked vaguely familiar, perhaps from the bomb James had dismantled a few missions ago, with Q’s help. And Q is still holding the book open to a page entitled Traveler's Prayer, though that appears to be the only English on the page.

Q’s been praying... for James’ safe return? Yes, so it would seem. And judging from Q’s face, he knows James has sussed it out. He removes the shawl from his neck and folds it carefully, seemingly bracing himself for some ridicule or censure. But James only feels gratitude. What he’s witnessed… that’s not something one does for a mere asset. Someone you send when a trigger needs pulling.

“Thank you, Q. I’m very touched. Though, didn’t you say you thought I was dead?”

Q shrugs. “MI6 thought you were dead. I had more faith in you.”

Something warms in James’ chest. Despite his exhaustion and bruised muscles, he feels rejuvenated. He and Q share a little smile.

“Let me see you home,” he says, and when Q’s smile drops, he adds, “Just to be sure you’re safe. Surely you weren’t planning on staying longer?”

“No,” Q admits. “I’d planned to check out a car, since the Tube is closed.”

“Let me drive you home. And then perhaps tomorrow… after I finish my report… we can get a coffee. Or a drink, if you like.”

Faith is complicated, and leaps of faith are terrifying. Definitely for James, and perhaps for Q as well. James watches a dozen emotions dance across Q’s expression before it settles on something approaching humor and hope.

“I’d like that,” Q says. He blows the candle out and puts the items in the box, closing it shut before they both make their way out of the office.


End file.
